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“All right. Let me see.” She read her notes. “Departure from Miami to Geneva on Thursday. Return from Geneva to Miami on Saturday. I’ll look into that. That’ll be my assignment for tomorrow.”
“Aren’t you coming for dinner? Mom was asking about you?”
“I’ll call her in the morning. Maybe we’ll spend the day together.”
“Make sure you spend the evening with us and bring your bathing suit.”
“Yes, sir. My food is ready.” Yawning, she brought the two pans to the counter and sat to eat. “Now, I’ll eat and go back to bed.”
“Don’t tell me you can sleep again?”
“Oh, yes. My body needs its sleep.”
A strong burst of laugher vibrated across the line. “All right, babe. Call me tomorrow whenever you’re back to normal.”
***
Madison’s car was parked in the mansion’s front yard when Rick arrived home in the evening. He found his mother in the kitchen, in front of the oven, and kissed her cheek.
“I hope you had a good day,” she said. “Dinner is ready. Madison set the table on the patio.”
“Great idea. The weather is gorgeous. I’ll change and join you outside.”
A moment later, he returned in khaki shorts and a beige t-shirt. “Take this pan with you. Madison already took the salad and ratatouille.”
Eager to see the woman of his dreams, he grabbed the pan from the oven and strode to the patio to the delightful sight of Madison in black shorts, yellow and black shirt, and flip-flops, her hair pulled into a ponytail.
“That’s what I call a relaxing sight.” He set the pan on the trivet in the center of the table and pulled her into his arms for a scorching kiss.
“Your mom is here,” Madison whispered when he finally let her go.
He shrugged. “Mom is open-minded and doesn’t mind seeing us kiss, right, Mom?”
Arlene laughed. “Leave some for after-dinner. Now, help yourselves.”
They did and ate with gusto. “There’s no food like my mother’s.”
“That’s true. It’s all delicious,” Madison agreed.
“So what did you do today, ladies?”
“Not much. I cooked,” his mother answered, “and Madison worked on her laptop. Then we lazed around in the pool and watched the boats gliding along the waterway.”
“I looked into the flights to Geneva,” Madison interjected.
“And?” He asked without missing a bite.
“There’s no direct American flight from Miami to Geneva. Most have one or two stops, going through New York or London. So you’re better off flying Miami-Paris and back.”
“Huh?” He arched his eyebrows. “The kids are in Geneva, not Paris.”
“I know. From Paris, you’ll catch the TGV highspeed train that’ll put you in Geneva in three and a half hours. Same thing for the return to Paris.”
He pondered her suggestion for a few seconds.
“This is better for the children than flying for fifteen hours with two connections. Unless they don’t like staying in Paris—”
“They love Paris and don’t mind going there anytime. Will you be on the flights with us?”
